


nightmare exquisite

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Double Penetration, Established Relationship, M/M, Other, Pseudo-Incest, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15969032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jason Todd occasionally has tentacles. It's not a big deal. Dick and Tim take advantage of the situation.Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne has a troubling nightmare.





	nightmare exquisite

**Author's Note:**

> All of this is for my beloved [CherryMiko](http://cherrymiko-art.tumblr.com/) who encourages my worst habits, and who also drew [this incredible fanart](https://anoncitomikolino.tumblr.com/post/177466213744/kink-bingo-meme-free-kink-tentacle-nightmare).
> 
> To everyone else: I'm sorry

Patrol that night was rough. Bruce had managed to get himself waylaid by King Kraken; Nightwing was in Gotham while he recovered, trying to make up for Batman's absence. Dick was coming off a full week of nightly stakeouts in Bludhaven, and between tracking down Kraken, interrupting an arms shipment at the pier, and handling a surprise appearance from Crazy Quilt, he was so exhausted that he was starting to feel energized again.

"Red Hood's in town," said Tim's voice in his ear. He sounded anxious. "Call it a night?"

Dick laughed. "You're so impatient, baby bird. You sure you swept the Bowery? Better check it again."

"I _swept_ the Bowery, okay? I — I'll meet you back at my place. Red Robin, out."

"Don't start without me," said Dick teasingly, not really expecting a response.

He wasn't really sure exactly what kind of relationship Tim had with Jason, these days, except that it was sexual and, occasionally, involved him. The two of them seemed to have gotten over the whole attempted-murder situation — at least, Dick hoped they'd gotten over the whole attempted-murder situation and weren't trying to work though it with fucking. Then again, Dick and Jason had worked through their own tensions by sleeping with each other, and that all seemed to be functioning quite well so far.

Dick fired his grapple and began to make his way towards Tim's favored safehouse, a loft in Gotham Village. They had to choose their locations wisely now, after the latest close call: last month, he and Tim had gotten bored during a charity gala at the Manor, called Jason over, and the three of them had had a lovely time — up until Damian had burst into Tim's bedroom unannounced, Bat-Cow in tow. Many elaborate lies were hastily concocted that night. 

Damian didn't know about this safehouse. Bruce probably did, but Bruce knew everything. Dick swallowed nervously at the thought. He questioned, sometimes, exactly how much Bruce knew — whether Bruce could read the subtle changes in how his sons talked to each other, the way their body language had shifted ever since this whole arrangement began, whether Bruce could tell that their relationship had transitioned from brotherly into something else entirely. Dick didn't _think_ that anything about his behavior screamed "I'm having sex with Jason and Tim," but he couldn't be sure. The Batman always found a way.

Dick landed on the fire escape without a sound, and climbed through the window.

"You're late," called Jason.

Rolling his eyes, Dick made his way up the stairs, following the sound of Jason's voice. He liked to think of himself as a bit more restrained than this, but just the promise of what lay waiting for him in Tim's bedroom was making his body stir; he thought he could hear Jason moan, and he felt a little pulse in his groin. He pushed the door open.

Tim was still in his Red Robin suit, curled up between Jason's legs. Jason was shirtless, dark jeans unbuttoned; he sat up in Tim's bed, gently stroking the younger man's hair. Tim was already sucking his cock; Jason was looking insufferably smug.

"Wow, someone was eager," Dick chided. "Were you even paying attention during patrol? Maybe we should go back and check the Bowery again."

Without taking his mouth off Jason, Tim reached back and pointed his middle finger in Dick's general direction.

Dick shifted himself onto the bed next to Jason and gave him a kiss. "You're a bad influence on him."

Jason's laugh turned into a moan as Tim began to swirl his tongue around the head of his cock. 

"You're doing just fine, baby bird," he said, sweeping the hair out of Tim's eyes.

As Dick nonchalantly licked into his mouth, Jason gasped, hips bucking once; Tim had apparently stopped teasing Jason, had suddenly decided to take him all the way down without so much as a mild gag. Dick grinned internally: sweet, gentle Timmy sucked cock like a fucking porn star.

Not that Dick could really blame him. Jason was blessed; Dick loved the feeling of him pushing his jaw wide, pressing up against the back of his throat.

It was really just an offhand comment. Dick didn't put much thought into it.

"Wish we could both deepthroat you at once, Jay," he whispered. 

And then, the tentacles came. 

They unfurled from Jason's body, from his broad shoulders, from the small of his back, shining and monstrous, the color of the sea in a storm. Immediately reaching for his escrima, Dick watched as one of the thicker tentacles encircled Tim's slim waist, pulling him up off Jason's cock and hefting him into the air, winding around for the tendril to caress his cheek. The gesture was benign — perhaps even tender. 

"Huh," Jason had said. "Forgot about those."

"What the hell, Jason?" Dick grabbed the tentacle closest to him. It was slick and firm, and a very peculiar feeling was beginning to rise in the pit of his stomach. His own erection, he noted, had not flagged.

Jason hissed at the contact. Dick let go immediately. 

"You can feel it when I touch them?" he asked, grasping at another, lightly this time. 

"Yeah," breathed Jason. 

Dick gave the tentacle a cautious stroke. 

"Holy shit," said Jason. "Do that again."

Dick gave him an incredulous look. "I'm not jerking off your tentacles, Jason. You — you have tentacles! Do we need to call Zatanna?"

"I'm _fine_ , Dickiebird," said Jason. "It just happens sometimes. The tentacles, I mean. Don't worry about it."

Dick couldn't see how he was meant to not worry about his little brother sprouting into an Eldritch horror. It had been a long time since he'd seen Jason's tentacles. He had always wondered about this particular feature of Jason's biology, but Jason had declined to explain. Then again, there was a lot he never talked about. He never talked about the tentacles, or why he could pull swords out of his body, or what was really going on with the white streak in his hair. At any rate, it didn't seem as though Jason liked to talk about certain chapters of his history, especially not the one with the tentacles, and Dick had simply elected not to press the issue.

"You're not fine, Jason," said Dick, even as another tentacle began to worry at the hem of his Nightwing suit. "This really doesn't seem fine."

Just then, Jason made an absolutely obscene sound. "Baby fuckin' bird," he gasped. "Look at you."

Dick turned and looked: Tim had decided to take the tip of one of Jason's tentacles into his mouth, sucking on it as though it were a cock.

"Tim," whispered Dick, "Tim, you — what are you doing?"

Tim pulled off the tendril, now shining with its own viscous secretions. Wiping his mouth against his sleeve, Tim gave Dick a pointed look. 

"We're having a tentacle threesome," he said matter-of-factly, "unless you don't want to participate, in which case we'll continue without you. Right, Jason?"

"God, I am such a bad influence on you," said Jason, as two tentacles coiled themselves around Tim's thighs, parting his legs, allowing access for a third to slither into his suit and pull away at his jockstrap, freeing his erection. Tim gasped as a thin tendril traced an experimental line around and underneath his balls, then wriggled down towards his twitching entrance.

Dick couldn't pretend he'd never thought about it, not even back when he'd first watched Jason lapse into his monster form, writhing and grotesque. The thought was shameful, not to mention absurd, but it had come to him regardless — the thought of what those tentacles could do to him, if he let them. But this was preposterous. He was frozen in place, tentacles writhing cautiously around him; it should have been a fear response, he knew. He should be wanting to either fight the monster or flee as quickly as he could, but this monster was _Jason_ , and instead of doing any of the things he should have done, Dick watched as a tentacle curled itself around Tim's dripping pink cock, coating it with slick.

Tim whimpered as the tentacles continued to stroke him. Dick felt himself twitch at the sound.

"This is a mistake," said Dick, mostly to himself, as he leaned over to kiss Tim's forehead, where a thin sheen of cold sweat had formed. "This is a mistake, and I guess we're making it."

A strong pair of tentacles coiled around his torso and hefted him up as another snagged him by the ankle and began to slither up the leg of his suit; they were slippery with secretions and Dick couldn't find a way to stabilize himself, had to just force himself to relax and believe the writhing mass of tendrils wouldn't allow him to fall. More tentacles curled around his wrists, lifting up his arms and binding them up over his head. Adrenaline pulsed through him. Dick had had his fair share of sexual partners, human and alien alike, but never anyone, or anything, quite like this. 

He looked over his shoulder at Jason, locked eyes with him — this was Jason, he remembered. He trusted Jason. Mostly. Jason was his brother. Sort of.

Something slippery wound itself around his balls, hefting them gently, before sliding its way towards the base of his cock. Another tentacle began to coil around his shoulders, holding him still. Dick drew a sharp breath as the tentacles thrummed around him, strong and pulsating, making his suit come apart at the seams. 

His suit regularly sustained damage and had to be sent to Alfred for repairs, but this might take some explaining. He only thought about Alfred and his potential reaction for a few moments, though. Something was pressing at his entrance, wet and hot and swirling in circles against his puckered rim, leaving him glistening with ooze. Vaguely, Dick could register Tim saying something, something about being ready, now now _now_ , but Dick wasn't listening — all he could think about was having more, more of whatever this sensation was, and then the tip of the tendril was pushing shallowly, then pulling back, teasing him. 

"Fuck, Jason," he managed breathlessly, “I can’t believe I want this.”

Jason stroked lazily at his own cock, self-satisfied grin on his face. "Want what?" he asked innocently.

"You're insufferable," said Dick, squeezing his eyes shut as the tentacles continued to taunt him. He was held in place, could just barely crane his neck to see where it pressed up at his entrance, could only feel it sliding back and forth between the cheeks of his ass until slick dripped down his inner thighs. He couldn’t tell how big it was, couldn’t tell whether it was one of the thinner tendrils like the one pumping up and down his cock, or — oh, fuck — one of the broad tentacles that held him steady by the waist, diameter larger than that of a fist. To his own shame, Dick realized he didn’t really care.

“Inside,” he murmured. “Jason. Quit teasing, want you inside.”

“As you wish, Dickie.”

A sudden tentacle shoved its way into Dick’s mouth, making him sputter and gag as his anus twitched, squirming for attention.

“Didn’t specify which hole you wanted me inside," said Jason. “Specificity is important. What would Bats say?”

Tim actually let out a little giggle at that. Tim was a little shit. _This is why Damian is my favorite_ , thought Dick.

The slimy appendage brushed against the back of his throat. Dick swallowed around it, wondering vaguely about the health effects of ingesting mysterious tentacle nectar. Would it make his mind go dim and hazy and slip away, send a wave of heat through his body, ignite something bright and sharp and aching in the pit of his stomach? It tasted of salt and musk and an inscrutable sweetness and Dick could only suck on its girth, running his tongue along its rubbery texture. He moaned around it as the tentacle at his ass nudged at him again. 

Dick had known for months that his volatile relationship with Jason would eventually take a physical turn, though he'd expected it take the form of swinging a few fists, shouting angrily about Bruce, airing out family drama over the rooftops of Gotham. When instead, Jason had drawn him closed and crushed their lips together and jerked him off in an alleyway, though, he hadn't been too surprised. Physical, one way or another. That seemed to be how Jason dealt with all his interpersonal conflicts, if Tim was any indication. Only ever fighting or fucking.

After what seemed like an age, a slim tendril breached Dick's entrance and began to properly make its way inside.

He clenched around it, feeling it twisting and sliding against his insides. Yet more tentacles held his legs apart, and with nothing to throw his weight against, Dick was helpless as he allowed himself to ride the appendage inside him.

The tentacle in his ass pulsed, and then there was the head of another, thinner tendril, now prodding at his entrance as well, slithering inside as he relaxed his muscles to accommodate both of them. And then he was full, so full, stretched wide as the two limbs inside him palpitated against each other, thrashing and contorting, spearing him open. His hips trembled, and he couldn't help but jerk forward into the soft wet mass of tentacles entwining his cock, fucking into the tight grip they made as something deep inside slammed against his prostate.

Jason made an obscene noise, and Dick quickly opened his eyes. Jason was still seated in the bed, had been trying to touch himself, but he'd stilled: he was too busy staring at Tim, and _oh, fuck_ , Dick followed his gaze and saw Tim. A tentacle had wound under Tim's left knee and brought it up towards his chest, allowing for easy access to his hole, where no fewer than four tentacles were undulating inside him, drawing out breathy moans with each pulse. He clutched a tentacle close to his chest, eyes fluttering closed, jaw slack, an image of ecstasy.

"I've never," Tim panted, "I've never taken so much at once." 

Pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, he stifled a moan.

"Let us hear you," said Jason. "Come on. For us, baby bird."

For once, Tim actually did as Jason said, dropped his arm and squeezed his eyes shut tight and ground down against the clutch of tentacles pumping into him, head thrown back, and he was so small and so pretty and so _speared open_ , and then he was coming, taut and shaking, could only let out a fragile little whimper.

Then Dick couldn't hold off any longer. His hole clenched around the pulsating tentacles inside him, and he world turned white and dropping away into static. The tentacles around his cock tightened their grip, urging more to spill from him, pumping through his orgasm until he was empty. 

Then Dick drooped, hung exhausted and sated in the tentacles' slippery grasp. 

 

"Not finished," murmured Tim, sweeping his damp hair out of his eyes. He looked at Jason. "You haven't come yet."

He wobbled a bit as he crawled, determined, towards Jason, threw a leg over his lap, and groaned as he sank down with minimal resistance on Jason's neglected erection. Dick could feel his own cock beginning to stir again, perking up as Tim began to move.

"God," Jason sighed, as Tim rolled his hips once, twice. "You're all opened up for me, baby."

"Hey," said Tim, looking over at Dick as he rode Jason with a slow, hypnotic rhythm. "Help me. Wanna be full like before."

Realization dawned on him. Understanding what he meant, Dick leaned in and dropped a kiss on Tim's collarbone. "You sure?"

"Come on, Dick. I'm loose, I'm ready, just do it."

As he stroked himself to hardness again, Dick traced a finger around the rim of Tim's hole, puffy and sensitive. He dipped his finger in alongside Jason's cock, and Tim squirmed.

"Stop teasing," Tim gasped. "I told you, I'm ready. Want you in me, come on. Fill me up."

Kissing Tim on the nape of his neck, Dick repositioned himself on his knees behind his youngest brother. He kissed Tim between the shoulder blades and took himself in hand, nudging gingerly where Tim's slick entrance was already stretched around Jason's cock.

Slowly — agonizingly slowly — Dick pushed his way into Tim, who buried his head in the crook of Jason's neck. Tim whined, his skin covered with a sheen of sweat as his ass enveloped them both. He was wet — so wet, and even though the tentacles had stretched him wide, he was still so tight and hot and Dick thought he was about ready to lose his mind, tentacle fluid still dribbling out from his own hole.

Then there came another tentacle, wrapping itself around Tim just to steady him as he sank down, fully seated around them both. His head lolled back, eyes closed in contentment; to Dick's amusement, he was smiling.

"You love this, don't you?" Dick teased, even as his thighs strained and he struggled to stay in position.

"Our Timmy's such a little slut," said Jason, grinning.

"Fuck off," said Tim, but the pleasure in his voice was evident, and he began to move again, riding them both at a tortuous pace.

Legs shaking, Dick felt his mind drift off into a haze, overcome by the sensations, knowing only the sound of Jason's labored breathing, the slick push-pull of Jason's cock against his, the intense heat of Tim's insides. It was so tight, so good, and Dick had definitely been in error earlier, because this had all been an _incredibly_ good idea.

Jason came with a shout, and somewhere between his cock twitching against Dick's own, and Tim's tight ring of muscle convulsing, contracting like a vice grip around the both of them, Dick found his second release of the evening. He felt himself shudder as the pressure burst and bloomed in waves. His body tightened, pushing a residual wave of fluid out of his hole. His hips stuttered against Tim and, after a moment to collect himself, he slid out with a wet sound and collapsed onto the bed. 

Jason held Tim, patting his hair affectionately while Tim nestled into his chest. Dick extended a lazy arm towards Jason and drew him in for a kiss. Having apparently served their purpose, the tentacles were gone, disappeared back into the nightmare dimension from which they'd come.

* * *

Bruce woke with a start. He was in his bedroom, curtains drawn; it seemed to be dark outside. Someone had apparently removed his Bat-suit and dressed him in pajamas — Alfred, probably. The last thing Bruce remembered, besides that terribly _vivid_ dream, was getting cold-cocked by King Kraken. He checked the Rolex on his bedside table; it was evening. He looked down and realized he was hard. 

He never wanted to think about his sons having tentacle sex ever again. That was ridiculous, right? Jason had only been a tentacle monster briefly, that one time. And Dick and Tim weren't — no, that was ridiculous, they wouldn't. It had just been a dream. 

Bruce decided to will away his erection. It wilted beneath his steely gaze.

Through the cracked windows, he could hear the soft sounds of people talking in the kitchen. He took a moment to pull on his dressing gown and ventured downstairs. As he walked, his head seemed to clear; the voices in the kitchen grew louder, clearer, and the pleasant aroma of something savory wafted towards him. The dream began to fade from his memory. 

"Ah, Master Bruce," said Alfred, upon seeing him enter the kitchen. "Glad to have you join us in the land of the waking."

"Kraken dosed you with a pretty mild psychoactive gas," said Tim, seated across from Dick at the kitchen table. "I ran a chemical analysis and decided to let you sleep it off. Might've given you some weird dreams, but nothing more serious than that. You've been out for twelve hours, so it should be gone from your system by now."

"In time for dinner! There's plenty left," said Dick cheerily. "Alfred's really outdone himself tonight." 

Dick was holding a bowl, ladling something out of a pot —

Bruce grimaced. "Is that — "

"Pulpo alla luciana," Alfred announced proudly. "An Italian octopus stew."

"It's so good," said Dick, sitting back down and biting gently into a tentacle. 

"I'm already really stuffed," said Tim, taking the ladle, "but I just want more."

"I should've worn maternity pants," said Dick, patting the little swell in his belly.

"Master Bruce," said Alfred, "you look a bit pale. Perhaps you should have some stew."

Bruce refused to make eye contact with any of them. "I'm fine, I'm just — I have work to do," he said, turning on his heel. "In the Batcave."

"You sure you're okay? Bruce?" Dick called after him — but he was already gone, dressing gown fluttering behind him like a cape.

"He'll be fine," said Tim, who slurped at a tentacle and sighed happily. He grinned. "You know what this makes me think about. Do you think Jason's coming over tonight?"

Dick gave him a little kick under the table. "Tim," he said, lowering his voice, "Alfred's like, right there. Also, I've eaten way too much to want to do anything tonight."

Tim pouted.

Alfred, discreet as ever, ignored them.


End file.
